


Fatherhood

by sketchedsilmaril



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: But minimally, Gen, I made myself sad, Luke Skywalker - Freeform, Mentioned Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchedsilmaril/pseuds/sketchedsilmaril
Summary: He was fussing. And she was getting really, really annoyed.In the aftermath of Mortis, two idiots try and only sort of succeed in sharing their feelings, and Ahsoka calls Anakin something that maybe she wasn't allowed to by the Jedi.inspired by a text post by qirahsoka on tumblr.





	Fatherhood

He was _fussing_.

The moment they touched back down in Coruscant and finished up their infuriatingly vague report about the debacle on Mortis to the Council, Anakin had immediately whisked her off to the Healing Ward. When they entered, he unceremoniously ignored the five other Jedi and padawans waiting in line and demanded Master Che _would you look at my padawan now_. After a beat of silence and an unimpressed look from Master Che, he belatedly added a _please_. Understandably, as Ahsoka looked apparently completely hale and healthy, Master Che directed them to waiting room with a stern warning to wait. Anakin had narrowed his eyes, a sure sign that he was getting ready to argue, until Ahsoka elbowed him to back down, conscious of the disgruntled looks directed their way.

So now she was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, with all six feet of Anakin looming over her, and glaring at anyone who looked over at them for too long. 

“—not feeling dizzy at all, are you? There’s water in the corner—,” Anakin was saying, aggressively adjusting her Jedi cloak over her shoulders.

Ahsoka could feel her lekku darken in embarrassment—out of the corner of her eye, she could see several other padawans in the room smirk. “Master, I’m _fine_ ,” she said through gritted teeth, “I don’t understand why I need to see Master Che.”

Anakin scowled. “We haven’t been back here for a check-up in a while, and after what happened on—,” he caught himself, glanced around, and lowered his voice, “—on Mortis, I want to make sure everything is okay.”

“I thought we agreed that it was a dream or vision,” she said sullenly. Knowing that it would grate his nerves, she slid down her seat, deliberately slouching and sprawling out. Anakin normally didn’t care much for Jedi decorum off-planet, leading her to pick up his bad habits (much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin), but here in the Jedi Temple, with the hushed halls and gentle sunlight, Anakin always seemed to put a little more effort into playing the role of a dignified Jedi Knight, sitting and standing a little straighter and even affecting a strange mixture of his loose Outer Rim accent with the tight Coruscanti voice. Unfortunately, that also meant he was more strict with her as well. (Years later, long after the Temple was a burnt, hollow husk of its old self, she wondered why she had never, or maybe refused to see his constant need for approval and validation.)

His face shuttered, eyes suddenly far away. “Dreams do not always pass in time,” he murmured, “And visions stray into the waking world.”

A chill crawled up Ahsoka’s back. He didn’t sound like he was talking from a theoretical standpoint. And—he was right. As _impossible_ as Mortis was, everything had seemed so real—the older version of herself warning her desperately, the sharp fear that spiked her heart as Anakin had looked at her with those wrong, golden eyes, and the words _seeds of the Dark Side_ echoing in her mind. After Mortis, Obi-Wan had carefully questioned them both separately, given that he was the only one who came out with no memory gaps, and he had pulled her aside and quietly told her that Anakin appeared to have no memory of his stint with the Dark Side, and that they had better keep it that way. When she asked him if anything had happened to her when she was out, Obi-Wan had simply looked at her gravely, and replied that it wasn’t his place to tell her

Well, given the utterly weird and bizarre happenings (which Obi-Wan had delicately called _an anomaly_ during the Council report), she couldn’t blame Anakin for being unsettled. That didn’t mean she had to give in without some ribbing on her part. “Trying to excuse your fussing as a part of the metaphysical concepts curriculum?” she said half-heartedly.

Anakin blinked, his expression “I don’t _fuss,_ my young padawan _,”_ he said indignantly, “Still—I’ll feel better if Master Che thinks nothing is wrong.”

“Fine, but I want an extra hour of Jar’Kai training tomorrow,” she said, kicking his shin.

 

* * *

 

 

After they finished up with a disgruntled Master Che ( _your padawan is_ fine _, knight skywalker_ ), Anakin clamped his hands around Ahsoka’s shoulders and steered her into the direction of her quarters. Before she knew it, they had already reached her room.

“—so I’m ordering you bed rest for the rest of the day. Keep warm, drink your liquids, comm me or Obi-Wan if you have any problems, I promise I’ll have it on, get a good night’s sleep—

“ _Master_ ,” she interrupted, shaking free of his grip, irritation flickering in her chest. “What is going on?”

“Nothing.”

She crossed her arms petulantly, raising her brow. “I can tell you’re lying.”

“I don’t—it’s a long story. I don’t know how—”

“Then _explain_. My schedule is completely free today, according to you.”

Anakin groaned. “I just—what happened to y—us on Mortis—“

“You were about to say _you_ ,” she accused. Her irritation was slowly burning into something hotter, wilder ( _you have a wildness to you, child_ ). She shook herself mentally, trying to funnel as much as she could into the Force. _Stay calm_. “What happened to me on Mortis that you aren’t telling me?”

The air crackled with tension, fraught with—with fear, and not her own. It leaked from her master, an agitated trickle that began to snake across their bond, before he suddenly clamped down on it. The escaped remnants evaporated, and Ahsoka breathed again as a weight lifted off her, though something still lingered, not quite forgotten. Anakin sighed, suddenly looking tired in the way Ahsoka noticed that Obi-Wan sometimes did when he looked at Anakin after a dangerous mission. “Listen,” he started, “I—I saw—something—that made me realize that—I can’t lose you.” He gazed at her intently, a fire blazing in his eyes. “I _won’t_ lose you.”

“A—Anakin,” she said, stunned, “You won’t. I’m still here. I’ll always be a Jedi, I’ll always be here, fighting at your side.”

“I know, I _know_ that,” he said, “But _please_ , for my peace of mind—can you put up with me like this, just for a little while?”

Streaks of sunlight wavered across his face, casting part of his face in shadow. His eyes had cooled a little, but desperation still flared quietly in them. Ahsoka could see tiny dust motes dancing in the light, humming, waiting. The Force was quieter, murmuring something she couldn’t quite hear. A beat of silence.

“Can I get an extra hour of Jar’Kai every day this week?”

The air lightened, and Anakin cracked a smile. “I can do that,” he replied, “But s _eriously_ , listen to everything I said, and _don’t_ try to sneak out to watch the races today, I know you do that _all the time_ —“

He was gearing up for another tirade, if she didn’t stop him, but—even so. It was the way his hand felt on her shoulder, heavy yet warm, the way he looked at her, exasperated yet filled with something she couldn’t quite identify, something that stirred dim, faded memories like shaking the dust off the tattered dress she wore when she left her home planet. Despite her annoyance with his previous antics, her annoyance with his over protectiveness because she’s been trying to prove to him _I can handle myself_ , a fond lightness bubbled up in her chest, and before she could stop herself—

“Okay, _dad_ ,” came out of her mouth, half-teasing and half… something else.

The Force stilled.

Anakin paused, blinking down at her, mouth slightly ajar. She stared back at him, eyes wide, uncertain. _Why had she said that?_ Every sentence in the Jedi code about attachment was bouncing around in her head, every sentence that she had memorized in the years before she had been apprenticed to him, uncertain of her future and increasingly desperate to prove herself as she saw her crèche-mates move on without her, and she suddenly felt fourteen again, heart beating in sickening anticipation and nervousness as the transport touched down on Christophsis. Why had she said that—

—but in the next second, she felt herself swept into a warm embrace, Anakin fiercely hugging her. For a split second, she froze in surprise, before she tentatively wrapped her own arms around him. As she burrowed her face into his chest, something lodged in Ahsoka’s throat and her eyes started burning with hot tears. She squeezed them shut, breathing the moment in and feeling impossibly small, as if she were a youngling again. The quiet, hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple, filled with the scent of fresh flowers and leaves, had long been her sanctuary, but now, as she stood in her tiny room, her nose smashed uncomfortably against Anakin’s sweaty, engine grease-streaked tunic, she felt like she was—home.

His comm suddenly beeped, and the spell was broken. Anakin released her, awkwardly clearing his throat, his eyes suspiciously wet. Glancing at his wrist, he huffed a shaky laugh. “I’ve got to go—it’s the Chancellor—it’s been a while, he’s probably wanting to see me again.” He looked back at her, eyes softening. “Take care, Snips, okay?”

Ahsoka reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I will, Skyguy. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” With one last, affectionate smile, Anakin turned away and quietly left her room.

Ahsoka let a long breath, falling back onto her pallet and closing her eyes. Anakin drove her crazy half of the time, she still knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth about Mortis and everything, and maybe, just maybe, they needed a long talk about everything that went unspoken between them—but it could wait for another day. Today—today was a good day.

 

* * *

 

 

What felt like a lifetime later, after years of running and fighting and surviving, on a forest moon far away from her old room in the Jedi Temple, Ahsoka Tano stood in front of a pyre—a grave of ashes. Beside her stood a man with eyes she hadn’t seen for over a decade.

“I wonder sometimes,” he said sadly, with that achingly familiar Outer Rim accent, “if things were different—if he would’ve been a good father.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, as the veils of her memory shook open that warm, golden day long ago on a planet far, far away. She smiled.

“He was.”


End file.
